The troop marched along the trail through the green foliage.
“We are tigers!!”
They chanted merrily, as if nothing bad at all could happen to them in the wild underbrush of the forest.
From a distance a pair of squinting blood-red eyes watched them closely.

“Hold up!” the pack leader called.
He began to tell about a birch tree, trying to make it seem much more important and interesting than it really was. As the middle-aged, balding, obese man droned on the Beast struck.

The cub scouts never saw it coming. As it ripped through the scout’s cute little uniforms with it’s hairy, spindly fingers the Beast remembered his days as a scout. A horrible time.

The scout master watched in horror as the flesh and bones of his charges were devoured and tossed around. The beast slithered around him grasping his neck.

The scoutmaster gulped, but the Beast grabbed his Adam’s Apple and ripped it out of his throat. Blood sploshed down to the ground like a waterfall.

The Beast disappeared.